


An Unspoken Truth

by lilyplujambah



Series: An Unspoken Truth [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Love, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyplujambah/pseuds/lilyplujambah
Summary: She needed to talk to Fitz but she wasn’t certain how he would react. He’d always been hesitant whenever a conversation turned romantic; he brushed off the questions, changing the topic. Jemma knew this was risky - and probably unprecedented - but pressed forward regardless.
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: An Unspoken Truth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915114
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54
Collections: AOS Season 7 Countdown





	An Unspoken Truth

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr aosficnet2 Season 7 Countdown Challenge. This is based on the prompt 'faking dating AU' from 'Day 2'.  
>   
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in association with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D..

Jemma stood alone on the porch of her best friend’s duplex. She felt out of place. She very rarely felt out of place in her friend's presence, but as the slicing gale threatened to lift her away, Jemma decided that today must've been different. The sodden air and water-pooled welcome mat seemed the least bit welcoming. She stared at the brown door and just as she was about to knock, she grew tentative. It wasn’t facing him that bothered her, it was the matter of how this was going to go. She needed to talk to Fitz but she wasn’t certain how he would react. He’d always been hesitant whenever a conversation turned romantic; he brushed off the questions, changing the topic. Jemma knew this was risky - and probably unprecedented - but pressed forward regardless.  
  
When the door opened on her third knock, Jemma was taken aback. Her best friend stood in front of her, dishevelled. His curls were unbrushed and his cardigan was buttoned incorrectly. A swell of feelings encompassed Jemma as she thought about his domesticated appearance. “Um… Is this a bad time?”  
  
Fitz laughed and opened the door wider to let her in. “Nah, Jems, I’m just playing with Hunter,” he said, raising his hand with the remote controller. She only glanced around the main room, having been inside on countless occasions. Was it different today, or was that just her present discomfort? Jemma could sense Fitz watching her as she moved directly to the kitchen island.  
  
She stopped without turning around. The counter she pressed her palms to was a jarring contrast in temperature to her own. “Is Hunter here? Or Daisy?” Jemma began, her brain lost in a mist of thoughts regarding the uncertain outcome of her endeavours.  
  
“No, we’re playing online. She’s out shopping or something.” He’d hardly moved from the door when he asked, “Is everything okay, Jemma?” A slight concern laced his now-quiet voice. She turned around then, aware that she'd have to face her worries eventually. “I’m sorry. You just- You were-” Fitz began, seemingly guilty about inquiring as to her wellbeing. It was understandable; she wasn't the most open or expressive person - it was probably one of the reasons she needed to have this conversation.  
  
“Fitz, I have to ask you something,” Jemma said hurriedly. She knew that she was behaving weirdly - her hair was not properly tied up and her posture was far from its usual rigid straight posture. And, unfortunately, Fitz noticed that. He looked her over, multiple times, and she bit her lip hard under his scrutiny.  
  
Apparently unsatisfied, Fitz walked up to her, reaching out to place a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Jemma, did something happen?” If she'd thought his voice was concerned or worried before, she'd have been incredibly wrong - which she was. His voice wavered as he spoke. And his breathing had slowed to the beat of a calm ocean. He placed the controller down beside her and ran his hands down her arms.  
  
“No, no," she mumbled, realising that'd taken a good minute to respond. Her thoughts rioted inside her brain. "I just don’t know how to say this without-” Jemma cut herself off impatiently. She inhaled deeply and moved her gaze to the clock on the wall behind her best friend. “Will you come to dinner with me?”  
  
When all Fitz did was stare at her blankly, she looked back at him. She could read no expression on his usually telling face. His lips were tight and his eyes were wide. When they started speaking, they spoke together.  
  
“Are you-”  
  
“And my parents?”  
  
“Wait, what are-”  
  
“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Jemma interrupted, not noticing Fitz’s somewhat hopeful expression as the thought had registered in his mind. “Let me explain,” she said as she made for his kettle, unable to look at him a second longer.  
  
***  
  
Eight months earlier, the annual Simmons family Christmas party had taken place. Everyone in the family had attended; even extended family and their spouses. It was a party that Jemma had been looking forward to for weeks. Ultimately, like every year, it had meant that she’d had a chance to go home - to see Sheffield - as she so rarely did in her adult life. As per her parents’ insistent request, she’d brought a lasagna that she and Fitz had fumbled their way around the kitchen to produce. She’d driven three and a half hours, from London, with the lasagna in a cooler, and had arrived fashionably late - not by personal preference, but rather by Fitz’s delaying tactics.  
  
Upon entering the family residence, she had to believe that her parents had done a fantastic job with the decorations. The ceiling was laced with falling decor, from sculptures to sneaky mistletoe. The walls were something else, entirely. Candles lit a path through her home and the paintings were slightly haunting in the dim light. As she found her parents, they addressed her with two questions. “Do you not yet have a fiance to share with the family? Or even a boyfriend?” The questions, while characteristic of them, ruined her evening. It was disconcerting that her parents neglected to follow an ever-changing society. They relaxed in their traditional ways and refused to understand modernity. At the time, Jemma didn't have a boyfriend and the thought of bringing Fitz along, even to pretend, would have been absurd. Though, as Jemma later reflected, it may have saved her the endless pestering of, not only her parents, but everyone else at the festive dinner.  
  
It was a long-held value among the Simmons family; that one should marry young and marry well. To say that only her parents were traditional folk would be an exceptional understatement. They were incredibly well-off people with a tendency to bask in their power. Every member of the Simmons family was well-educated, well-raised, and simply rich. The family estate was incredibly large and decorative every day of the year. People in the family wore clothes that cost a grand apiece. Jemma Simmons, though, was the polar opposite.  
  
While everyone in Jemma’s family was either a politician or an entrepreneur, Jemma surrounded herself with biochemistry. She only wore comfortable clothes; simple jeans, a cardigan, and a blouse. She didn’t receive monthly cheques from her grandparents, unlike her siblings and cousins - she insisted on making her own living. She didn’t prioritise finding love. She was independent and simple. Practical and rational. And, she believed that she didn’t require her family’s support to be happy.  
  
And, that was her biggest mistake.  
  
Every year, no matter how much Jemma enjoyed meeting up with her beloved family, the experience was always lessened by the knowledge of her parents’ increasing disapproval. They rarely outright said as much, but the looks on their faces and questions they asked her, spoke volumes. Her family would greet her sisters, brothers, and cousins with sweet and encouraging pet names, ask them of their day, discuss future occupational plans. This was never the case with Jemma.  
  
Last year, though, her family, and parents especially, had been brutal. During the entree, the people around her had subtly offered to set her up with friends of theirs. When Jemma had declined, they had dropped it. Though, when the main course had come out, Jemma had been forced to answer more endless questions about her love life.  
  
When the final sitting, consisting of chocolate moose and rice pudding, had come around, Jemma’s fuse started to run short. During a conversation that included everyone in the room, her mother openly asked, “Jemma, why are you not dating anyone?” At this, Jemma had snapped.  
  
She stood up and let a silence wash over the dining table. “Everyone, please, stop.” She looked around to see people placing their cutlery down and turning their attention on her. “I know that-” Jemma took a deep breath. “I’m not like the rest of you. I’m different, unique. I don’t like living rich and I sure as hell don’t like politics. I’m not into hiring servants to live my life for me and I’m not some doll to be given away in marriage.” Jemma turned to her sister, beside her. “Merilia, I didn’t marry Milton, because I didn’t want to. He agreed with everything I said and never contributed anything to a conversation.” Jemma turned to her parents. “Father, no, your financial support won’t help me get married. And, mother, I’m not dating anyone, because I don’t want to! Right now, I have everything I need in life: a stable job that I enjoy and love, a best friend that I cherish with all my heart, and my own flat with a makeshift blackboard room.” Jemma had sat down with a small smile for her self-indulgent blackboard. “To put it simply, I’m happy. And my career comes before any relationship I choose to be in. Truth be told, I have yet to find a man who doesn’t hate my passion for science and simplicity. I either talk too much, I speak geek-language, I’m at work too much, or I have distasteful clothing. I don’t want to be in a relationship right now.”  
  
If Jemma had had any hope of a consensus come from her speech, she would have been left broken-hearted. Immediately afterwards, her mother spoke, saying, “Jemma, this will not do. You are a disgrace to the family name. Next time I see you, I expect to see a man beside you.” No-one had said anything more to Jemma that entire evening.  
  
***  
  
“Shit, Jemma. You never told me your parents were insane!” Fitz exclaimed, as he rubbed the back of his neck, his hair somehow messier than before. He slid his arms around her and pulled her in for a huge embrace. “You know you can talk to me, right?” he asked with a gentle voice. Jemma nodded slowly against his shoulder, tears threatening her eyes at her being this hopeless in front of her best friend. She was not an emotional person, she reminded herself; especially in front of Fitz. “Jems.” Fitz moved his hands to cup either side of her jaw. “I always envied your wealth and I never understood why you didn’t accept the cheques - I mean, you could have your dream house and dream job; you wouldn’t be stuck with me..." He chuckled lightly, but there was a bittersweet sadness laced through his voice. "But, wow. I never- If only I’d known that such luxury would come at such a great cost,” he mumbled, before looking her deeply in the eyes. They were incredibly blue, she thought as she initiated the second hug. For a long moment, they stood there, comfortably in each others’ arms.  
  
Once they had gotten tea and relocated to the couch, Fitz became confused. The warmth of the tea in her palms was comforting, but Fitz's look had the opposite effect. Looking at her over his cup of tea, he asked, “What’s all that got to do with you taking me to dinner with your parents. We’re not together or anything. I mean, we’re just friends, right?”  
  
Jemma nodded uncertainly. Apparently, she'd have to explain. “Yes, Fitz, of course, we’re just friends. But that’s not the entire story.”  
  
Again, Jemma didn't notice Fitz’s face fall.  
  
***  
  
Not a week ago, Jemma had been sitting peacefully in her small living room. It was not exactly a pleasant day - steam coated the windows from the heater and her oven had chosen that same day to break. She'd been watching a documentary on the television, admittedly, in a huff, when her phone had rung. “Hello,” she said impatiently, though not intentionally so.  
  
“Jemma, your father and I are going to London for a couple of nights." At her mother's strict tone, she audibly sighed. "We’ll be staying at the Ritz and we’ll be there in a week's time. You will bring your partner to dine with us for afternoon tea. I hope to see a ring on your finger, but what can I do about you and your modern ideals?” Oh, Jemma thought. While she was aware that this would've happened sometime, she hadn't allowed herself to expect it. She didn't have a partner, least of all a fiancee.  
  
“Mother, why-” she began, her voice merely an angered hiss.  
  
“Jemma you know my expectations. I will text you the details when everything is settled.” There had been a pause before her mother breathed, “Goodbye, Jemma,” and the line cut off.  
  
"The audacity," Jemma mumbled to no-one in particular and moved to prepare herself a cup of tea.  
  
***  
  
“Well, at least she gave you a warning. My mother hardly knows how to operate a phone, she’d never give me a call first.” Fitz tried to comfort a Jemma who was even more on edge, now, than she’d been the day she’d gotten the call. “Anyway, why do you want me to go? Surely, you of all people have a boyfriend,” Fitz said and accompanied it with a self-deprecating laugh. At Jemma’s frustrated expression, Fitz stopped. “You don’t?”  
  
Her lips were tight and eyes down when she responded, “no, Fitz! I’d tell you if I had a boyfriend.” Jemma turned to face Fitz more fully on the couch.  
  
He snorted. “Like that time you waited three months to tell me about Milton?" 'Why did everyone have to mention Milton?' she thought to herself. "And, like that time I had to find out from Hunter that those four months of Friday nights that you were ‘busy’...” Fitz formed speech marks with his fingers. “You were actually just hanging out with Will.” His face fell in what Jemma, at any other time, might've thought was mock-offence. Today, though, it was not. “Seriously, Jemma. For all I knew, you could’ve been engaged!”  
  
Jemma was stunned into silence. “Really, Fitz?” she said after several moments, her mouth agape. “Why do you care, anyway? You haven’t been in a relationship for as long as I’ve known you and every time I offer to set you up, you refuse!” Fitz looked into his lap and Jemma, only then, realised that she hated it when her sisters said such things to her. “The last thing you should care about is my dating life,” Jemma mumbled, before turning away and staring mindlessly at the television. Jemma hadn't noticed the crescendo of their voices until the silence settled disconcertingly around them.  
  
Fitz slid closer to Jemma on the couch, swinging an arm around her tense shoulders. “Look, Jems. If you need someone to go with, I’d be happy to help. You know I’m right beside you, yeah?”  
  
“The whole damn time,” Jemma laughed; the reaction brightening her face from its previous facade. It was a thing they'd told each other countless times.  
  
“Yeah," Fitz responded, almost by nature. He drew her into a side hug. “How’s this gonna work? I mean, won’t your parents know?” he asked, growing unsure again.  
  
“I haven’t told them I’m not dating anyone. Plus, you’re not exactly someone I wouldn’t date. But, then again, you’re-” Fitz closed himself off again; his arms moved into his lap and he played with the remote controller on his leg.  
  
“But I’m not someone you would date, either,” Fitz finished and stood up to put his teacup in the kitchen, not looking in her direction.  
  
“No, Fitz, that’s not what I said,” Jemma offered, not realising precisely what they were saying.  
  
“I know your type, Jemma. Tall, muscular, confident; everything that I’m not.” Fitz sat back down on the far end of the couch. It hadn't occurred to Jemma to consider why he was upset; at least, not until then.  
  
“You’re a handsome man!” Jemma slid towards him in an attempt to get him to loosen up.  
  
“Look, I get it. I said I’d go, so I’ll go.” Fitz rose again. “There’s no way I’d ever get a chance to go out with you otherwise,” he mumbled under his breath as he paced in his own house.  
  
Jemma only just heard it and instinctually responded, mostly to herself, “Maybe there is.”  
  
She hadn't realised she'd said until she heard, “What?” from the other side of the room. Fitz's eyes were intent on her and the corners of his lips threatened to rise.  
  
“I’ve gotta go,” Jemma deflected and made her way to the door, her voice cracking. She couldn't talk about this now. Fitz had said yes, that was all she'd come here for. She couldn't deal with the emotions she'd spent nearly a decade suppressing. They were friends, period. He'd said so himself, hadn't he?  
  
“No, wait, Jemma!” Fitz cried and stumbled towards her. She was intent on leaving but when Jemma opened the door, Daisy was there. Not one to usually dwell on circumstance, Jemma made use of the momentary distraction and snuck away.  
  
***  
  
Jemma decided that the best idea would be to call Fitz; especially after she’d run out on him the day before. She was even less sure of where she stood with Fitz after the emotional turmoil that had taken place at his apartment. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything when he’d mentioned never getting a chance to go out with her, she just hadn’t realised what he’d actually said; he wanted to go out with her. Fitz _wanted_ to go out with _her_. It wasn’t something Jemma had really considered. Not in years, at least. She remembered finding him attractive when they’d first met. He was cute with his curls, good with his hands, and comforting with his Scottish lilt. But what he’d needed was a friend. A colleague. Someone to rely on. So she’d buried the thought. Told herself that they were just friends, which they had been, and still were, right?  
  
It took all of Jemma’s will and self-confidence to dial Fitz’s number. She was sure her hand was trembling as she raised the mobile to her ear. The phone rang four times and Jemma was about to give up when the line finally connected. All she heard, though, was hushed arguing between Fitz and who she supposed was Daisy. “Hello?” Jemma asked, unsure of what else to say.  
  
There were a couple more bangs from the other end before Fitz’s voice rang through. “Jemma?”  
  
Jemma steeled herself. “Hey, Fitz. I just want-” The sound of a smoke alarm coming through the speakers stopped Jemma dead. She noticed her breathing increase rapidly. What the hell was going on?  
  
Not moments later, the blaring noise was hushed and Fitz’s voice, once again, said, “Jemma?”  
  
“Yes, Fitz?” Jemma questioned, at a loss.  
  
“Sorry, Daisy was, um… toasting something.” Jemma heard a barely audible ‘oi’, likely from Daisy, accompany Fitz's message. She, herself, laughed and used the moment to relieve some of the tension that was developing, too quickly, between them.  
  
“Toasting something, eh?” Jemma asked teasingly, though the waver in her voice was surely not missed.  
  
Fitz chuckled. “Yeah.”  
  
Jemma let the moment of silent contentment settle over the conversation. “You know what, Fitz? I’ll text you the details,” Jemma said, eventually. The moment had calmed and the thought of ruining the place they were in troubled her.  
  
“No, Jems, no. Tell me, what’s up?” Fitz said, clearly needing some clarity too.  
  
“The dinner with my parents. You’re still in, right?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. On the inside, though, she trembled.  
  
“Oh, yeah. That.” Fitz sighed. “Of course.” 'Glad to know he's just as thrilled,' she thought sarcastically.  
  
“It’s tomorrow, Fitz.”  
  
His response was far from reassuring. “Uh-huh.”  
  
“Look, I know it’s not ideal but I can’t do anything about my parents’ traditional ways. I’m asking as a friend. A friend in need.” Jemma was sure they were about to have another argument.  
  
“I know. I just can’t help but see it go the wrong way. You told me they liked politicians and businessmen. And, believe it or not, I’m in neither of those professions. I’m an engineer. Who makes little to nothing for a living.” The line went silent for a moment. “I thought about it last night, Jemma. I don’t want your parents to hate me, you’re my best friend in the world! They’re probably gonna rip me apart like you said they did to all your other boyfriends who met them. I don’t want to be some boy who you cared about and then tossed away when you got bored. I can’t.” His voice cracked over the phone. Did her parents' opinion really mean that much to him?  
  
“I would never do that to you, Fitz!" she cried. "We’ve been friends for eight years and I’ve never tossed you away.”  
  
“But it’s not the same, Jemma.” She couldn't deny the fact that he had a point about her habit of 'tossing' boyfriends away when they got 'boring'. He wasn't wrong. They always became uninteresting after a while; after she'd learnt everything about them.  
  
She wasn’t even wholly certain what they were arguing about anymore. She couldn’t tell if Fitz was worried about ‘being her girlfriend’ for the day or being analysed by her parents. And, what did it matter? He was her friend. A best friend, yes. But, still, a friend. He shouldn’t care what conclusions her parents come up with. “Fitz, please!” Jemma said into the phone.  
  
“Fine, Jems. I’ll do it as your friend, or whatever.” He was frustrated. Jemma was certain of that much. It wasn't only his tone, but his attitude and word choice, also.  
  
“Thank you so much, Fitz. I’ll see you tomorrow. And, I’ll text you the when and where tonight." She pretended not to be perturbed by his mood and hope he wouldn't notice her own uncertainty.  
  
Fitz sighed, “Sure, Jemma.”  
  
“Are we good? Friends?” It hurt her to even say it. Her voice cracked and her hand shook, but that wasn't the point. Both of them needed the clarity.  
  
“Yes, friends. Forever and always,” Fitz mumbled before the line cut off.  
  
***  
  
Jemma heard him before she saw him. By the extravagant entrance to the infamous restaurant, stood an extremely nervous Fitz. Jemma watched as he paced before her mumbling, “Hello, my name is Fitz. Leo Fitz- No. Good afternoon- No. Good day- Oh, God, Leopold!” As Jemma thanked the cab driver and moved towards Fitz, he stopped. “Hey, Jemma!” He rushed to her. “How are you?” She had to admire how handsome he looked in his tux. It was a simple outfit; black and white in colour.  
  
She fixed him with a condescending look as she said, “it’s not me you should be worried about.” She stopped. “And, hello, by the way.” Jemma pulled him into a hug. “Thank you, Fitz. But, please, act natural,” she whispered in his ear kindly, taking into account his nerves.  
  
“Uh-huh,” he nodded, shaking away the last of his jitters as they pulled apart. When he stopped moving, he looked her up and down, but looked away when they made eye contact.  
  
“What is it? Do I look weird?” She ran her hand through her hair. “I feel a bit weird all dressed up like this; it’s been a while.” And, it had been a while since she’d gotten dressed up. Working behind the scenes, in a government lab, nobody cared what she wore. Jemma realised that this was the first time she’d seen Fitz not in a cardigan.  
  
Fitz stepped closer to her and slid a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No. You look nice.” He gave her a small smile as his other hand came to rest on the shoulder of her red coat sleeve. “That’s all.”  
  
At the sound of her mother’s voice in the distance, Jemma remembered where she was and pulled away from Fitz. He was her friend. Nothing more. This was all for show, after all. “Jemma, darling.” And, even so, Jemma's mother wasn't the biggest fan of public displays of affection.  
  
“Well, that’s a first,” Jemma mumbled under her breath.  
  
“Huh?” Fitz looked her way.  
  
“Who is this handsome young man you’ve got here?” Jemma’s mother enquired and looked quizzically at Fitz.  
  
When he didn’t respond, Jemma whacked his arm lightly. “Oh, uh…” He looked helplessly at Jemma. “Hello, Mrs. Simmons, Mr. Simmons,” he slowly managed. “My name is Fitz- Well, Leo Fitz. But please call me Fitz.” Jemma suddenly felt a rush of guilt run through her. She hadn’t seen him this nervous in years.  
  
“Hello, Fitz. How nice to finally meet you.”  
  
“Do you want to go inside?” This time it was Jemma’s father who spoke. He led them inside, through the lobby, and to a small white-clothed table with four cushioned seats. In the centre of the table stood a layered platter of bite-sized sandwiches. The party lowered themselves into their respective seats and silence once again coated the conversation. “So, Fitz. Where do you work?”  
  
Fitz jumped at the question. “I, uh… I work with Jemma.” He placed a hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “I’m an engineer,” he finished, looking at Jemma.  
  
“Oh, you work with Jemma. Curious that’s never been brought up before,” Jemma’s mother stated pointedly at her daughter. “How long have the two of you known each other?”  
  
“Just over eight years, Mum.” Jemma leaned into Fitz.  
  
“You were friends first, weren’t you?” When Jemma nodded, her mother continued, “I thought I warned you to never be friends with a guy first; it’s always a rollercoaster.”  
  
Jemma straightened up. “But, mum, I like him.”  
  
“Oh, you like him? And I thought, with eight months, we’d surely be approaching a marriage proposal. I guess, like always, I was too hopeful.”  
  
“Look, Jemma, you know we love you - I’m sure your mother doesn’t mean to be quite so forward - but you really need to settle down. You’re approaching twenty-five years.” Her father relaxed in his seat. “Now, Fitz. What do you like about my daughter?”  
  
“Like about…” Fitz echoed and looked at Jemma, flustered. “I- She’s really intelligent. And truly beautiful.” Fitz looked up at Jemma’s parents. “She’s a genuinely remarkable woman.” He casually placed his arm fully around Jemma. “She’s fun to be around, witty and excitable. I respect her, too.” Jemma’s heart fluttered at the warmth of his embrace and the kindness of his words. He leaned forward to grab a sandwich, his hand still holding her.  
  
“My, Jemma, are you hearing this?” her mother asked. “Please, darling, tell us: Why do you only ‘like’ this man? He is incredibly acceptable. Well, aside from being much too short for my liking and an engineer. But, for you-”  
  
“Mum! Fitz is plenty attractive. Please don’t say such things.”  
  
“Why, then?”  
  
Jemma rearranged herself on her seat and ran her hands down her tight black pants. “I really do like him. He’s funny, and interesting, and smart. And he’s so adorable when he’s nervous.” When Jemma looked at Fitz, she had a huge giddy smile on her face. “And, we have so many great memories. We have a lot in common, yet we’re different enough that we still have things to learn about one another.” Everything she said came so naturally, Jemma realised.  
  
“She surprises me all the time.” Fitz turned to face Jemma, a smile forming on his face. “Like that time you told me that you had never learnt how to-”  
  
“To fry an egg, yeah. Or that time that you couldn’t figure out how to use the new washing machine in your-”  
  
“That Daisy bought us, yes.” Fitz snorted and retrieved another sandwich. “Even she couldn’t operate the damned thing.”  
  
“Ha, yeah.” Jemma looked down into her lap and played with the hem of her white top.  
  
“Well, it’s certainly nice to see that the both of you get along,” Jemma’s father perked up - as much as a man of his age and personality could.  
  
“Good for you, Jemma.” Her mother seemed satisfied; the first time in a long time.  
  
“Thanks, Mum.”  
  
Her father sat up further in his seat, “now, Fitz, where did you say you were from?”  
  
“I’m from Scotland,” Fitz replied proudly. Unfortunately, though, he was rewarded with a look that could’ve accurately been translated to ‘no shit’. “Uh… Glasgow,” he said, with notable tentativeness.  
  
“Aye,” said Mr. Simmons, almost jokingly. “And, you work with Jemma? How often do you see each other?”  
  
“Um… We’re partners,” he said as his cheeks reddened. “We see each other every day.”  
  
Jemma wasn’t certain why her friend was blushing until her father said, “so you spend all hours of the day together? You drive her to work?” Jemma became flushed too and nibbled on a small lettuce sandwich.  
  
“Sometimes. We both do the driving,” he mumbled, somehow managing to avoid lying. The sandwich became soggy and almost sweet in her mouth.  
  
“Our daughter’s a right genius, is she not? Too bad she’s wasted her brains on biochemistry,” her mother questioned.  
  
“If she hadn’t, I never would’ve met her,” Fitz’s lips curled as he said as much and his hand fell to her knee; thumb gently stroking. She glanced at him, but he did not look her way. “And, yeah. She is pretty, bloody smart.”  
  
Mr. Simmons stood suddenly. “Mr. Fitz, would you please assist me with the drinks?” he asked politely. But Jemma could tell there was an underlying demand in his words.  
  
Fitz clumsily stood and Jemma immediately missed the warmth of his hand on her leg. “Aye, Sir,” he said, for lack of anything else to respond.  
  
Jemma watched as they made their way around a corner. She glanced at her mother. “How was the trip down?” she asked, at a loss for anything else to say.  
  
“It was… not unpleasant,” her mother mumbled. “You are not wearing a dress? Surely the Ritz warrants a dress?”  
  
Jemma's eyes widened as she looked directly at her mother. “Fitz liked my outfit,” she said, instead of snapping at her, as she’d intended.  
  
“Oh, he did?” her mother asked, but it was not a question, simply a response.  
  
Jemma stood up gracefully. “I’m going to the restroom.” She left before her mother could stop her. She was stopped on the way there by a familiar voice. Fitz, she thought, before turning to see him talking to her father in a small side room. It looked as though it was the restricted area. There were pool tables, empty bottles, and loud cheers that resonated from inside the room - adults-only, Jemma presumed.  
  
Her father appeared to be questioning Fitz. “How do I know that you are worth my daughter’s attention?” he seemed genuine with his question.  
  
Fitz froze and looked down. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and responded, “I’m not.” Jemma only just managed to stifle her gasp. So much for pretending to be in a relationship, she thought. “She’s so much better than me,” he went on to say and Jemma’s attention was on him once again. “She’s so sweet to me and so intelligent. Sometimes, when in the lab, I like to stop to just look at her. To watch as she so caringly and carefully completes a project. She has the most beautiful and contagious smile, too.” Fitz was hardly looking at Jemma’s father anymore and he continued, “she knows exactly how to make my tea and exactly how to make me laugh. She sets me straight and allows me to understand the world. She deserves so much better than me. So much.” He turns back to her father. “But…” He took a slow breath. “I love her.” Jemma froze as Fitz’s voice rambled on, “I mean, I’ve never told her. I don’t know how she’d react. Please don’t tell her, not yet.” Fitz stopped speaking and Jemma all but ran for the bathroom.  
  
***  
  
“So, when you said all those things about- I mean, we were just pretending, right?” Fitz's voice was so quiet that Jemma turned to look at him. The backdrop of her house behind him was an odd sight that evening, she thought. It never had been before. He was nibbling on his nails and his cheeks were uncharacteristically bright red.  
  
Yesterday, she would have reached out and pulled his hand away from his mouth. She would have told him that it’s unhealthy, unhygienic, and she’d probably have listed the diseases that he could have caught from doing such a thing. But, today - Jemma couldn’t pinpoint exactly when - something had changed between them. She wasn’t compelled to stop him from biting the nails on his attractively long fingers. Her brain wasn’t even able to think of five viruses he could catch. And, rather than want to stop him, she wanted to watch him. She’d always thought he was somewhat cute when he was nervous, but today was another matter entirely. Now, with his hair tousled in large golden-brown curls and his vibrant blue eyes highlighting the beauty of his young face, Jemma couldn’t help but stare.  
  
She thought back to when he’d been speaking to her father. He hadn’t needed to say everything he had. And, he certainly hadn’t needed to profess his love for her. And, why wouldn’t he let her father tell her? Surely that had been the point of his comment; for it to appear as though they were genuinely dating. He’d just said as much not a minute ago: ‘we were just pretending’. But, he hadn’t seemed certain - he’d phrased it as a question, after all: ‘right?’. Was it possible that he truly harboured feelings for her? The thought sent butterflies to her stomach. Then Jemma remembered his comment, not two weeks ago: 'there’s no way I’d ever get a chance to go out with you otherwise'. He did like her. No, _love_ her. But, surely he hadn't meant that. It was all for show, she reminded herself.  
  
When he realised that she wasn’t responding, he looked up at her and quietly asked, “Jemma?” She was knocked out of her reverie and found herself looking as deep into his eyes as he always did hers. She could’ve looked away. She probably should’ve looked away. But she didn’t. And, in her defence, neither did he. They stood there, on her small front porch. The only source of light coming from the streetlamps not ten meters away. A silence surrounding them. And, a tension that was so thick that Jemma felt as though she could touch it.  
  
He was magnetic, she decided. A force of gravity so strong that she noticed herself weakening. Weakening to the pull of his bewitching beauty. She didn’t know who leaned forward first, but not a moment later, his lips were on hers. A warm rush of excitement ripped through her. His lips were so soft, meticulous, and careful on hers. He kissed with such passion and most surprisingly: experience. Jemma had never even thought to genuinely ask him if he’d had any previous girlfriends or partners. She’d ranted to him about her romantic past. Shared anecdotes - or complained, rather - about her own experiences and breakups. But, he’d never once said anything about his own past.  
  
Jemma’s thoughts halted when Fitz’s tongue darted out to the seam of her lips. Responding immediately, she opened her mouth to him and slid her tongue against his. His hands slipped comfortably around her waist and she tangled her fingers in the soft hair on the back of his neck. He pulled away for only a second; to switch angles before capturing her lips once again in his. Their faces moulded perfectly together and their lips were formed perfectly for the other. She didn’t object when she was pushed into her front door, only felt herself melt under his attention. With one hand, she began to search her handbag for the keys. Fitz noticed that she was struggling and pulled away slowly to allow her to open her handbag. She chased his lips before opening her eyes slowly.  
  
Fitz pupils were huge, covering most of the blue in his irises. His lips were swollen from their shared passion and his cheeks were bright red, even in the minimal light. He looked stunning with his erratic breathing and broad smile - he rarely smiled like that. “Uh… Jemma…” He glanced at her bag. “Keys,” he breathed.  
  
“Right.” She nodded and, after what felt like an eternity, managed to unlock the door. But before she could replace her keys in her handbag, Fitz’s lips were, once again, sparring hers.


End file.
